Shadow Play
by MadameShi
Summary: A Virtua Fighter anime songfic series. Three interludes on the first encounter of Kage-Maru and Sarah Bryant, written to songs from Madonna's "Ray of Light" album. Spoilers up to Episode 11.
1. Chapter 1

"Frozen" by Madonna and Patrick Leonard, part of the album _Ray of Light_. Lyrics and music copyright 1998 Maverick Recording Company.  
_Anime events and dialogue were rendered with necessary dramatic license.  
Virtua Fighter is copyright of Sega and others._

**JO  
Beginning**

_Part 1 / Frozen_

**by Shi**

_You only see what your eyes want to see  
How can life be what you want it to be  
You're frozen  
When your heart's not open_

_Cold._

The water was cold as it poured down on me, sharp and stinging like a thousand tiny nettle whips. My hands fumbled for the shower knobs, my senses seeking to remember how the bathroom wall looked and felt. If I did not have warm water, the ice in my spirit might very well break through my skin.

In the accursed darkness where I had slipped into, nothing was impossible. I could die there, or feel the greatest pain that had surmounted death itself.

I did not feel like opening my eyes.

Not yet.

_No._

_It should not be like this._

My fingers froze on the tiles. I tilted my head forward, and the wall was even colder through the skin on my face.

_Scarred._

Damn.

I felt numb and powerless.

Was this the man I had turned into, a shell so empty that only ice and pain could bear to live in his heart?

_Ore wa..._

I did not know.

I did not know anything anymore.

What was right. What I needed. Who I was.

What I lived for.

What I have left to live and fight for.

There was Hagakure, so sedate and untouched that whenever I step into its woods I cheat myself into thinking that I might someday find my own peace, like the people in that seemingly timeless sanctuary had through the purity in their hearts.

So here I walk this other world of stone mazes, of rising chrome and steel as sharp and majestic as the finest blade. A world of cruel beauty that drew me into its embrace, in my need for Hagakure's salvation.

But damn.

For me.

For me there was nothing.

I live in the cloak of ten generations of greatness and power, fulfilling an elusive destiny under the mask of shadows. A warrior burdened with secrets that most would kill for.

Sometimes I wish they would.

If they could.

In the shadows, after all, they could not see.

In the shadows, I wait for the pain and cold and forever listen to the endless taunt of its mysteries.

In the shadows, I lived.

_You're so consumed with how much you get  
You waste your time with hate and regret  
You're broken  
When your heart's not open_

_The rocks had a slight sting against his feet, as he defied gravity and seduced the laws of nature. He had the strength to resist reality itself._

_He took no pride in the knowledge, as he leapt from butte to hill to jutting, jagged giant rocks scattered throughout the land. Wind howled through the treetops, slammed its concealed fury against mountain walls._

_The landscape was familiar in its serenity, a silent, rather uncaring witness to greed and darkness._

_The heat of the late-afternoon sun seeped through the blue-black cloth that rested comfortably against his flesh. The ninja garb almost felt like a second skin, and he rarely went out without wearing it. More so the mask, with its blazing character on the forehead and the black felt that hid the lower half of his face._

_And his scar._

_She was waiting for him on top of the tiny hill, smiling without mirth, as icy as her own soul. Her suit looked unruffled by the breeze and untainted by dust._

_Cold._

_He landed before her._

_Her eyes took in the kanji on his mask. She nodded with what looked like satisfaction._

_He nodded in return. He did not like speaking. He did not need to speak to convey that he had come in acceptance of her offer._

_She tilted her head to one side, and opened her artificially-red lips._

_"Kage-Maru. I have a mission for you."_

_If I could melt your heart  
We'd never be apart  
Give yourself to me  
You hold the key_

The price was high. And she could afford it.

There was no other who could do thorough work of the task she had in mind. One man was less conspicuous.

I was that man.

The subject had companions, she had said. Three, to be certain. She had given me files and photographs of all four of them.

They were all young, bursting with life and energy even through their stolen images forever captured in one stance.

The subject had an older brother. Blond like her. He looked cocky and confident, defiant of the world and all the challenges it could possibly pose to him. He was dressed in a racing uniform, standing beside a colorfully-decorated car, grinning. The file said he was adept in Jeet Kune Do.

There were two others. Most certainly not related to her.

The young woman was Oriental, petite, with long black pigtails. Ensei-ken technique and slippery. It was ridiculous that with so many Koenkan chasing after her, they still had not succeeded in capturing her. She was rather popular in the underground circles, this girl.

Koenkan were fools. Techniques do not make the fighter, as they falsely believed it to be.

Flash did not mean substance.

One of the Hagakure philosophies taught to all its children.

The young man was Japanese, brown-haired and with a stupid smile. Hakkyoku-ken. It was a rare form, one I have not yet encountered. The profile said he used to be popular in tournaments in his native land. His photograph was taken during one of his victories in Tokyo. Why was he here?

Why were all four of them traveling together?

And the subject.

God.

An angel descended to earth, with eyes as blue as a cloudless sky. Through the photograph, she smiled straight at me, golden hair framing her gentle features like a halo.

She was innocence and life.

She was beautiful.

_Now there's no point in placing the blame  
And you should know I suffer the same  
If I lose you  
My heart will be broken_

_The four of them caused quite a stir when they entered the casino ballroom where the party was being held. From where he had been standing for the greater part of the past hour, he saw the two boys enter ahead, dressed in tuxedos._

_The brown-haired of the two, the one called Akira, had been complaining about the outfit, he was certain of that. He was not comfortable in the shiny black suit himself; he realized he missed the soft cool black-blue fabric that sung silently through the wind as he moved._

_But work called upon him to dress up like this, in what some called a monkey suit._

_He stood leaning on the wall at the shadowy side of the ballroom, observant since he had entered with a group of noisily-chattering men and women a while ago._

_The bunch had fairly pulsed with an anxious, almost nervous, collective energy. They were the PR group of this company, the automobile brand that had accepted Jacky Bryant as its driver for tomorrow's race. There were a lot of speculations on the capability of this cocky young race driver for whom the party was being held. The PR people did not seem to know if it was a good or bad thing for the company image._

_Superficial. Everything was superficial._

_She and the Koenkan heiress, Pai, arrived next._

_She was dressed in a flowing light aqua gown, hair swept up into curls and tendrils falling down to teasingly brush against her angelic face._

_After a scuffle between Akira and Pai, the four of them managed to enter the main hall._

_Several minutes later, the dancing began._

_His eyes did not leave her as she floated across the room like a cherubim on a cloud, and stopped right behind the one named Akira._

_They spoke, the brown-haired boy hesitating, she with her eyes pleading sweetly and her rounded pink mouth curling into a cajoling smile._

_He felt his chest tighten. The prosthetic skin that he used to cover his scar was beginning to itch against his face._

_He was choking. Against what he saw. Against the impossibly tight collar of the suit._

_"Sir? Another glass?"_

_He lowered his gaze to a waiter standing a few feet away. The other man carried a tray laden with empty and full glasses._

_More champagne was what he needed._

_Although alcohol never affected his senses, the idea of doing something else appealed highly to him at that moment._

_Anything to deviate himself from drowning in the sensations that the angel stirred up inside of him._

_"Yes," he replied, placing his empty champagne flute on the tray and taking a full one in its stead, "thank you very much."_

_The waiter nodded in acknowledgment and continued on his way around the room._

_Tinkling feminine laughter, clear and lively as silver bells, reached his ears. Raising the glass to his lips, his eyes followed the source of the sound._

_She was dancing with the brown-haired boy, smiling at him and gazing into his eyes._

_He cursed and drained the glass, then looked for another waiter who had champagne._

_Love is a bird, she needs to fly  
Let all the hurt inside of you die  
You're frozen  
When your heart's not open _

The music seemed to fade with a life all its own when they stood face to face.

The siblings' parents were at the party as well.

I watched with amusement as most of the onlookers, PR people and social climbers who had fair knowledge of Jacky and Sarah Bryant's background, hushed in their grating chatter and trained their ears at the family of four that was standing in an uncomfortable circle to the center of the ballroom.

The siblings came from a rich background. The file on it was rather extensive, a boring biographical account of how the Bryant Corporation rose to power as one of the most affluent families as well as the most respected names in private industrial investments. Eva Durix had probably deemed it amusing to feed such nonsense to me, to see how far I could tolerate her mirthless humor.

Apparently, the two of them left home a little more than a year ago, the girl fresh out of high school. The boy had decided it was time to get a head start on his dreams to be a Formula-One racer, and she had been supportive all the way.

Much to the chagrin of their parents.

"Someone so beautiful should not go without a piece of jewelry for an accent," the elegant mother said to her daughter, pride in her voice and facial expression. She slid a ring off her fingers and took her daughter's hand.

"Mom, I-"

"There." The older woman cut her off smoothly as she slid the jewelry onto her daughter's left ring finger and patted the ornament into place. "It does look pretty on you, Sarah."

Flustered, all she could do was smile.

The parents turned their attention to the taciturn-looking young man who stood a few feet away.

"Jacky?"

What followed was a rapid fire of angry words between father and son that was drowned out by the excited whispers of the curious onlookers. Hearing was quite a challenge from my side of the room. Seeing the look on their faces was enough for me.

The young man turned and began to stalk off towards the exit. Halfway, he turned and fairly glared at his sister. "Come on, Sarah. Let's go back to the hotel."

Caught between her brother and her parents, she looked from one side to another, a confused look clouding the freshness of her beautiful face.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry," she said at last, cutting with a clean swath of quiet sound through the tension.

She shook her golden head sadly, apologetically, and ran in the direction of her brother.

I stared after her, still focused on her path even minutes after she had gone out of sight.

This rich beautiful girl.

She could have anything she wanted.

Yet.

And yet.

I...

I could not believe she chose to follow her brother's foolish dreams.

_If I could melt your heart  
We'd never be apart  
Give yourself to me  
You hold the key_

_The prosthetic skin patch was again on his face, and it felt sticky against the heat of midmorning._

_The light brown jumpsuit that served as the uniform of the track cleaning crew did not fit him well. He tried to suppress a smile as he recalled the gangly crew member who had succumbed so weakly to his three-second sleeper hold. The poor man was now in slumber land, cushioned between black garbage bags stowed by one of the racing stadium's many exits._

_He made his way to the side of the racing track, where the race was now taking heated momentum. He pulled the baseball cap that matched the jumpsuit even lower to shield his eyes. It would have to do. That was the easiest way to get closest to the track and the quarry and not make people suspicious at the same time._

_"Go, Jacky!"_

_"You can do it, Jacky!"_

_"Jacky! Jacky! He's our man!"_

_Perfect._

_The post of this particular crew member was actually close to the spot where the subject stood with her two companions. The three of them were wildly cheering, waving their arms, practically half-leaning off the stand railings in their united enthusiasm._

_He felt a twinge of envy._

_To be young. To live life with such energetic abandon._

_He had forgotten._

_He pushed these musings aside, and concentrated on the task at hand._

_Three laps had passed before the two leading cars ran neck to neck. Then the white car swerved to the right, its path within throwing range of his vantage point._

_His right hand reached into the jumpsuit's pocket and retrieved a small roundish contraption, barely bigger than a button. He scraped a nail on its ridgy edge, releasing the lock._

_The white car sped onwards, wavering from side to side but never losing its speed._

_Not for much longer._

_Sixty meters._

_Fifty._

_Forty._

_Now._

_The small container sailed invisibly through the air and landed flat on the track, spilling its contents._

_Crude oil._

_A second or so later, the sound of screeching tires screamed shrilly through the air, followed by a resounding crash, then punctuated by screams of the onlookers._

_He need not have looked to know what happened._

_He lowered his head and took a deep breath._

_"Gomen nasai," he whispered into the dank trackside shelter._

_He headed for the stairwell that led up to the stands._

_You only see what your eyes want to see  
How can life be what you want it to be  
You're frozen  
When your heart's not open_

She was there, panicky and half-incoherent, when I reached the spot where their tiny group had been cheering her brother on mere moments ago.

The brown-haired boy she had danced with last night was not there, only the smaller pigtailed girl served as her means of support as she took in the possible effects of her brother's car accident.

She and Pai were clutching onto each other's shoulders, looking around with wild eyes.

"Oh my god, Jacky! What happened to him?" Her voice was ready to break into sobs at any moment.

"Sarah, I don't know," said the pigtailed girl, fear in her face, "let's find out. Why don't we-"

"Miss Sarah Bryant?'

Both of them turned to look in my direction.

"Yes," she replied shakily, eyes searching my face for any trace of denial or confirmation of their suspicions.

"Your brother was seriously hurt, ma'am. We're taking him to the hospital. I need you to come with me."

"Where is he?" she asked.

"He's still alive!" interjected the Oriental girl.

"I'll take you to him," I replied.

"Pai, I'm going," she told her companion.

"You go ahead," replied Pai. "I'm going to find that idiot Akira and we'll catch up with you."

"All right."

With a nod, Pai ran off in the opposite direction.

She turned to face me, blue eyes blazing with both fear and determination. "Let's go."

I turned and picked up speed. She followed closely on my heels.

Inwardly, I smiled.

Everything was going according to plan.

_If I could melt your heart  
We'd never be apart  
Give yourself to me  
You hold the key_

_They had ran a good distance down the passageway that led to a far side of the stadium's carpark before he felt her beginning to lag behind._

_"Where are we going?" she asked, breathing heavily. "How much farther do we have to go?"_

_The area was dark and silent, as he wanted it to be._

_He stopped running._

_The time for pretense was past._

_"Not much," he replied, turning to face her. Slowly._

_A spark of confusion crossed her face, followed by a slow dawning of fearful realization._

_"What do you mean by that?" she blurted out, taking a tentative step backward._

_"We are not going to your brother," he said, taking out the pouch of sleeping dust from the jumpsuit pocket._

_"What..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes following the movement of his hands._

_For several seconds, they were caught in the slow, deadly dance of predator and prey. He moved towards her, as she struggled to maintain her consciousness despite the dust beginning to permeate the air around her._

_"No," she gasped out defiantly, weakly, before falling in an unconscious heap against his chest._

_He gathered her close to him with one arm. He smiled._

_So easy._

_"Yes," he answered._

_If I could melt your heart  
We'd never be apart  
Give yourself to me  
You hold the key_

I opened my eyes.

The damn water was too cold.

I ignored the stinging pain as thousands, millions, of relentless water droplets pounded down onto my eyelids. Pain did not matter much to me.

Not anymore.

I turned my head away from the spray and found the knob, selecting the nozzle that would release the warm water. I felt like a child, reacting right away when he was the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Had I ever known what it was like to be a child?

Perhaps children were smarter.

I do not know.

I reached up to the sensitive, roughened spot of skin on my face. It had been covered with fake skin for the better part of the past twenty-four hours. The scar was there as always, jutting and indelible.

Like so many times in the past, I had to hide. If not my whole self, then a part of me. If not myself, then who I am.

To the point that everything seemed so deeply embedded into the shadows, concealed beneath so many shrouds and self-deceiving lies.

I no longer even knew where to look.

_If I could melt your heart_


	2. Chapter 2

"Has to Be" by Madonna, William Orbit and Patrick Leonard, part of the album _Ray of Light (_Japanese release only). Lyrics and music copyright 1998 Maverick Recording Company.  
_Anime events and dialogue were rendered with necessary dramatic license.  
Virtua Fighter is copyright of Sega and others._

**HA  
Middle**

_Part 2 / Has To Be_

**by Shi**

I am Sarah Bryant.

I am a fighter, a rebel.

I left home to follow a dream, and maybe I made a complete fool out of myself in the process. Whenever he donned those tight and garish racing outfits, I was his female counterpart in equally outlandish leotards. We traveled as spokespersons, commercial models, small-time celebrities.

When I decided to pack my bags and help Jacky forge his way into the racing world, I knew then I was out for adventure, a chance to savor the world without the burden of our name on my shoulders.

And I believed so much in my brother, in the way he followed his supposed destiny with such unbridled passion.

Maybe I wanted to be like him, back then.

I was fresh out of high school, considering college courses, perusing university brochures the way I did my French fashions mail-order catalogs.

Maybe I just wanted to get out.

From the big white mansion, from my mother's carefully gentle yet ever-so-critical eyes, from my father's pride in my being so delicate and well-bred.

They cared about how I looked like, how I acted and spoke, how I carried myself in the presence of their powerful friends. Sometimes I wonder if they saw me as the most precious gem in their extensive jewelry collection.

They did not care about who I was. Never once did they ask me what I wanted to do, or become.

Maybe I still don't know.

_Breathe in, breathe out  
I say a little prayer  
How the gods above  
Could be so unfair_

_Entangled in the mesh of threads that wove themselves through waking and sleeping, she dreamt._

_And remembered._

_She was standing beside her brother, amidst a large gathering of people packed tightly into a room that still smelled of fresh paint. All eyes were either on her, or on the man at the table who gobbled tray after tray of Smile steak._

_Her heart was pounding as she watched him, so free, so full of zest. He looked like a famished monkey, with brown hair standing on end, a smile of abandon written across his handsome face as more food was laid out before him._

_Akira._

_That was his name. She learned that a little while afterwards._

_Akira. He was life personified._

_"Where's Akira?"_

_The voice came behind the front seat of the caravan, slightly disoriented yet forceful. A little bit anxious and angry._

_"Where's Jacky?" The pigtailed head appeared and dark deep-set eyes bore into her own. "Where are they, Sarah?"_

_"They went in," she replied quietly. "They're going to fight the Koenkan."_

_"What?" Pai's mouth dropped open, her voice raising itself decibels and pitches higher. "Why, they won't be at it alone for much longer. I'm going inside the dojo, too. I'm going to find that creep Yang Wei-Ming and fight him myself."_

_"Wait." She placed a gentle yet restraining hand on the Chinese girl's shoulder. "You would only be doing that over my dead body."_

_Pai smiled._

_In that moment, she felt, more than knew, the true meaning of trust._

_"Thank you, Sarah."_

_Pai. The first girl who had befriended and trusted her not for her money, name or possessions. They believed in each other, and that was enough._

_She had her fingers crossed as the car sped its way through the last lap._

_Inside, she was praying fervently. _

Please. Let him make it. He wants it so badly.

Please. 

_On either side of her, Pai and Akira were equally nervous, twitching on their stadium seats as their eyes followed the automobile that Jacky was test-driving. If her brother made it within the time required by the company, he would qualify for tomorrow's race as their driver._

_A stepping stone._

_The vehicle screeched to a halt by the pit stop._

_She could not hear any of the three of them breathing as they watched Jacky emerge from the car. For several tense seconds, he spoke to some men all dressed in the company's racing uniform. Pit crew members and racing managers._

_A smile suddenly broke through her brother's previously tense face. With a grin, he turned in their direction and flashed a thumbs-up sign._

_"I made it, Sarah!"_

_Entangled in the mesh of threads that wove themselves through waking and sleeping, she tried to call out to them._

Jacky.

Akira.

Pai.

_She was so alone._

_So afraid._

_I know there's someone out there  
Waiting for me  
There must be someone out there  
There just has to be_

When I saw his car swerve off the track and crash against the hard side walls of the stadium, I felt death hovering before me.

Taunting and reminding.

If we had never left home, this would never have happened.

We would never have worried about sponsors, or how Jacky would qualify for the next race.

I felt powerless against a force I could never hope to control.

Destiny.

God, what if Jacky's destiny was this?

The stranger dressed as a track crew member had approached me and Pai right after the crash, moments after Akira himself disappeared.

He said that my brother was hurt. Badly hurt.

As I followed him to where Jacky would be, there was only one thing running through my mind.

_Please. Let him make it._

_Please. He still wants his dream so badly._

_I need him to be there for me, too._

_Without him..._

Before I could go on with my unspoken, feverish petition, golden dust was swirling before me, making the stranger's face hazy to my eyes.

I remember I spoke, asked him something or other.

I remember I resisted the tug into the blessed darkness, because I wanted to see Jacky and my friends.

I wanted all four of us to be together, like that night we slept under the evening sky and listened to the story of Akira's search for the eight elusive stars.

Had it been too much to ask?

I don't remember asking for anything else.

_Go on, go on  
Don't sit there like a fool  
You've graduated from  
A different kind of school_

_An insistent tugging._

_Something sharp was digging into her hand._

_Pain._

_Dimly, she remembered her mother giving her the gold ring the night before. It had a beautiful jewel inset. She was certain she had slid it onto that spot._

_She was stupid to even consider wearing it to something as rugged as an indy car race._

_But she could not part with it._

_Where..._

_Where was it?_

_She opened her eyes, the fingers in her right hand entangling with those of her left, looking for the piece of jewelry._

_It was no longer there._

_Where could it be?_

_Something throbbed at the back of her mind._

_She remembered backing away._

_The lips on the chiseled face curling into a smile._

_The suppressed baritone chuckle, and the voice whispering into her ear._

_She remembered the blackness._

_Jacky..._

_Oh, god. Jacky._

_Where-_

_The room was cloaked in semi-darkness, the ceiling a dancing spot of unlikely shadows and swaths of light._

_A thick warm blanket was pulled over her._

_The surface on which she lay was soft, molding comfortably to her body. She gingerly tried to push the blanket aside, ready to call out for anyone within the vicinity who could make her recall getting here. Then she saw that she was still dressed in the clothes she had worn to the racing event._

_Yet she had been sleeping._

_Where was she?_

_I know there's someone out there  
Waiting for me  
There must be someone out there  
There just has to be_

Piece by piece, the puzzle quickly came together.

I had been led into a trap.

_The stranger with the smile and the unseen eyes and the low voice._

No. It couldn't be.

I didn't even know where I was.

God, let it be New Las Vegas.

What did he want from me? Money from my family, most probably. Damned if I give him the chance to get whatever it is he wanted.

I raised myself from the bed, into a sitting position. My nerves were still screaming with strain. A probable aftereffect of whatever drug he had used to knock me out.

I had been through worse pain. I would get through this, even if I was all alone.

_Oh, god._

The moment my vision focused I saw a tall figure standing a meter or so away from the foot of the bed. He probably heard me stir.

He turned and our eyes met in the unpredictable play of city lights and night shadows.

It was him.

"You." My voice was barely above a whisper.

It was the first time I saw his eyes. They were as dark as the shadows, showing the slightest bit of surprise. A small jagged scar marred one side of his face, where before it had looked smooth. He had dark hair, smoothed away from his chiseled features.

The face was unmistakable.

I could still remember the mirthless smile.

My right hand closed around the slender neck of a glass ornament that stood on the bedside table. Before I realized what I was doing, the object sailed through the air, right in his direction.

He managed to dodge it, but not quickly enough. The ornament shattered on the wall right beside him, sending sharp glass fragments flying in all directions.

One shard lashed across his left arm, drawing blood.

I heard him mutter something as he clutched at the fresh wound.

I bolted from the bed and ran towards the nearest exit that I could see.

Cold, cold air whipped my body as I made my way out the door.

I found myself on a balcony.

_I should be glad that I'm alive  
It could have been much worse  
I might have never loved at all  
And never known what I am worth_

_Suicide._

_That was the only other coherent possibility to get out of the situation. She could jump off the tall building and end her life on the busy cityscape below._

_Her foremost option was to fight her way out._

_In spite of his injury, he was on her heels._

_She turned to face him, her body tensing into a fighting stance._

_"Get away from me," she hissed. It was a futile threat._

_He did not respond, his dark eyes impassive, his movements to corner her purposeful._

_She had no choice but to attack. The roundhouse was the easiest kick she could deliver, given the tightness of space on the balcony._

_He dodged her offensive smoothly, bending to one side._

_She felt something hit along the side of her torso and midsection, heard the crack of bone against bone._

_Air left her lungs as the impact sent her hurtling backwards into the cold night._

_She expected the balcony railing to dig into her back, to break her fall._

_But nothing was there._

_The blackish gray concrete and chrome rushed past her eyes, the wind howling in her ears._

_She screamed._

_How the gods above  
Could be so unfair_

I was falling.

So quickly that I could not sense anything but the painful rush through my ears and the endless flow of black and gray colors in my vision.

_It was the end._

I...

I looked up.

He was falling, too.

He...

Before I knew what was happening, the rushing air and the flowing black-gray had stopped.

I took a sharp intake of breath.

It couldn't be.

We were hanging off the side of the building. I could feel a muscled arm encircling my waist, pressing me tightly to a warm body.

The rope was our only lifeline at this time.

Below us, the city lights flickered and tiny shapes that were vehicles continued to speed past.

Oblivious.

"Let me go," I protested feebly, uselessly.

"No," he rasped. "I can't."

He was breathing heavily, close to my ear. I turned my head ever so slightly to look at his face.

In the varicolored shades of evening light, his features were that of a mask.

Only his eyes spoke.

Good heavens, he did not want me to die.

He rescued me.

He...

He was in pain.

Something warm and liquid hit me on the face. It had a metallic tang. It had fallen in a large drop onto my cheek.

It was blood.

His blood.

We were moving upward slowly, and I looked slightly up, too, careful not to upset the balance.

I did not want to die.

His left arm was the one that clutched the rope; how he managed to throw it and jump right down after me was beyond my comprehension.

His left arm was the one that I had injured when I threw the glass ornament. It was bleeding.

And yet he managed to hold on. For himself and for me.

We reached the railing. I was shoved roughly over it. Shakily, I managed to pull myself back onto the safety of the solid surface of the balcony. My feet touched concrete once again, and my body hurt with tension and exertion and fear.

Now was the time to run.

I heard a suppressed gasp and turned to see him hoist himself over the railing, landing in a heap at one side of the balcony. Pain contorted his face. Even though his right hand now held on to the gash on his left arm, blood still flowed over his fingers and stained his shirt.

My fault.

Our eyes met, the injured captor and the captive who was on her feet.

His gaze held the unspoken challenge.

_You could run if you want._

My inner voice was adamant.

_I won't._

"You're hurt." My voice was steady, my steps sure as I closed the distance between us. I knelt before him, my hand reaching up for the scarf that I had used to tie my hair back. It would have to do as a makeshift bandage.

"What are you doing?" Surprise tinged his voice.

My hands shook slightly as they settled on the sinewy arm that was now half-drenched in blood. He had lost a lot already. I tied the scarf around the angry red gash, securing the ends with a knot.

My fault.

"That will stop the bleeding for a while." Bravely, I raised my eyes to meet his. Up close, I could feel the heat from his solid frame flow into my own. His gaze was as unyielding as pools of the darkest secrets of the night. He looked as if he was carved from granite.

But he was breathing rapidly, too quickly. He was not stone, but flesh and blood and mystery.

A distant pounding reached my ears and I realized I was listening to my heartbeat.

His face drew closer to my own, as I felt his unhurt arm starting to reach for me.

A quick pricking sensation at the side of my neck, and it was once again the blackness.

_I know there's someone out there  
Waiting for me  
There must be someone out there  
There just has to be_

I remember waking up and fighting tin cans that resembled human beings, calling out to my brother and my friends.

I don't know how long I would continue to struggle against these waves of memory that did not seem right.

All the voices wanted was for me to fight.

But it was only appropriate. I was alone and had no idea where they all were.

All I knew was that I was a fighter, and that was what exactly I would do.

Fight.

Against the blackness and the taunt of the voices that ruled my head.

For now.


	3. Chapter 3

"To Have and Not To Hold" by Madonna and Rick Nowels, part of the album _Ray of Light_. Lyrics and music copyright 1998 Maverick Recording Company.  
_Anime events and dialogue were rendered with necessary dramatic license.  
Virtua Fighter is copyright of Sega and others._

**KYU  
Conclusion**

_Part 3 / To Have and Not To Hold_

**by Shi**

I will never forget this night.

For as long as I live, and perhaps beyond.

It was the night I betrayed an act of pure compassion by exchanging self-serving greed.

She carried the soothing scent of lavender and traces of sweetness, like fresh cherry blossoms. Her now-unbound golden hair was spread out over the arm that she had bandaged mere moments ago. For the second time that day, she had fallen into my arms.

Asleep.

I had managed to sneak the needle out of my pocket without her noticing. She had been too occupied with my bleeding arm and dressing it with the soft scarf that she had removed from her hair. She had then looked at me with something like concern.

I had looked straight back.

And I had reached for her.

Then I had plunged the sleeping potion into her bloodstream by injecting the needle at the side of her neck.

For the precious few seconds that I had not thought of her as a captive awaiting delivery, I nearly fooled myself into believing that I was like everybody else. That I could be hurt and be cared for, that my heart could beat faster with one long gaze from those blue eyes, that I could touch someone because I wanted to.

Then I stopped.

For me, it could never be like that.

She could have had ran away when she had the chance. After we made it back onto the balcony, I had been fighting to remain conscious through all the pain in my arm and the blood loss. It would have been very easy for her to leave the room, run screaming into the hallway, and bring a horde of security personnel to arrest the bad man who had kidnapped the daughter of the rich Bryant family.

Yet she had chosen to stay, quietly showing her concern over someone who had done nothing but take her away from her brother and friends in exchange for a sum of money.

Before her eyes had fluttered close, she had looked at me with the slightest bit of surprise. No struggle, no accusing stare. I was certain she had expected me to do something to make her more docile.

Yet she had still helped me, rendering herself vulnerable to whatever harm her captor had in mind.

I knew she wasn't foolish enough to feel remorse for injuring a kidnapper, or grateful because I had saved her life.

She would have had realized I won't get my payment if she died.

She...

What had she felt then?

For a few stolen seconds, I wrapped my right arm around her slender body and brought her close, in a mockery of an embrace. She was breathing softly against my chest, as if she was merely a woman sleeping in a place where she thought herself safe.

I pulled back and looked down at her unconscious form. In the moonlight, she was an innocent angel with heavenly aura still gleaming, unaware of the madness that had made her its pawn.

_If only things weren't the way they are now._

_Sarah..._

The words escaped my lips.

"I'm sorry. I have to do this."

_To have and not to hold  
So hot, yet so cold  
My heart is in your hand  
And yet you never stand  
Close enough for me to have my way_

_If only..._

_The words lingered in his mind as he deftly swept her limp figure into his arms, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his left arm as he moved. As he went to his feet, blood rushed to his head and he felt like he wasn't in his body but somewhere else._

_He wished it was so._

_But no._

_Not for him. Not ever._

_Despite the strain of his injury, he barely felt her weight. She was as light as a piece of gossamer, her skin as smooth as silk to his touch. Her scent of fresh spring blossoms wafted to tease his senses and he felt purified._

_She was the perfect angel._

Shiroi tenshi.

_In the light of the moon and the uneven beams of city neon, she was a white angel._

_So pale against his darker flesh, so untainted compared to his soot-colored soul._

_He drew a deep breath and took a few tentative steps forward, testing his balance. He couldn't afford to feel pain or strain. Not when he was so close to getting the job done._

_Durix had said over the phone earlier that the money was already in the bank. All he had to do was deliver the girl. Unharmed_

_That was all. There was no difficulty in it whatsoever._

_Damn it to hell._

_Why did he feel the slightest bit of hesitation trying to rear its head into his own thoughts? His thoughts, always so clear-cut, felt clouded and muddled. As if ugly black dye had been poured into clear pond waters._

_The room was considerably darker than the balcony. He carried her to the bed and set her down at the center. He found himself pulling the covers over her body, thinking that her rather skimpy clothes would not do much to ward off the chill of the night._

_She would get sick._

_A slight flutter of bright red caught the corner of his eye as he straightened up._

_Her scarf._

_Darker drops of blood, starkly noticeable even in the sparse light, had seeped through the soft cloth. But, yes, he was certain that the bleeding had stopped, or at least lessened. His body felt more in control now._

_He would tend to the wound later, after he turned her over._

_After another step to completely selling his soul._

_The helicopter would be arriving any minute. He had better don the mask. It wouldn't do if others saw him as he was now._

_He looked down at the slight slumbering form on the bed, her steady breathing reaching his ears. _

Please forgive me.

_To love but not to keep  
To laugh, not to weep  
Your eyes, they go right through  
And yet you never do anything  
To make me want to stay_

Dragon's wings.

I had heard stories of these creatures when I was much younger, how their evil incarnations could use irresistible flames to corrupt and steal souls.

The helicopter was still a good distance away from the hotel but I could already hear its cold steel wings slicing mercilessly through the night sky, making chugging sounds that blended into an incessant staccato at the back of my head.

I pushed the balcony drapes aside and watched the New Las Vegas skyline for a few moments. They still were not visible from the room. But they were coming. I knew.

I was ready to settle dues, in my mask, with the lingering ghosts of nine generations.

It was time.

I let the drapes fall back into place, causing shadows to once again overpower light in the room. I did not like having much light, just as I preferred working at night.

I was, after all, merely a shadow.

_Kage._

Nothing more.

I walked to the bed and picked her up. It would not do me any good if I had to look at her longer than necessary.

So I ran for the roof, with the captive in my arms.

I ran away from whatever pieces of my soul that had sprang forth in that darkened room, in my short-lived moments of salvation on the balcony.

I ran towards the next step further into damnation.

_Like a moth to a flame  
Only I am to blame  
What can I do?  
I go straight to you  
I've been told  
You're to have, not to hold_

_Foolish boy._

_It was funny, how such a sterling fighter on file could so easily be sent to the ground. He could still remember Akira's devil-may-care smile, bursting with rather misplaced confidence, when they fought at the park a few hours ago. He could even remember Akira's frustrated bellow; perhaps it was the first time the boy lost in a fight._

_Pitiful fool._

_After he had met Durix at the roof and turned the girl over, the brown-haired boy had burst into the scene, followed by a hack Koenkan fighter. Right before his eyes, Akira and the Koenkan man had fought._

_The boy's Hakkyoku-ken technique was fascinating, a display of powerful close-range attacks that were devastating to the body's central parts. He had been tempted to go against such a novel style._

_The boy had then chased Durix's helicopter and managed to hang on to it. This partial success at following the kidnapped girl had been ruined when the copter smartly tilted him off, straight into a fountain pool at a nearby park._

_He saw his chance and challenged the Hakkyoku-ken boy._

_He was sorely disappointed._

_All brashness._

_But was he that, too?_

_He was certain, although brash had never been used to describe him in the past. It was all so different now._

_He had decided._

_The icy midnight wind lashed against his body as he rode the motorcycle through the highways, alone. Beneath the helmet, black as the rest of his clothes, he felt his breath coming out in foggy puffs. The insistent throbbing of his damaged left arm made him clutch the handlebars even more tightly._

_His booted feet pressed down the pedals with more force than necessary._

_The black motorcycle responded in kind, purring with as much sadomasochistic satisfaction as an inanimate object could express. It hummed as it gained speed under its owner's ruthless, determined ministrations, cutting a razor-sharp path through the freeway._

_Towards Salt Lake City._

_Towards her._

_To look but not to see  
To kiss but never be  
The object of your desire  
I'm walking on a wire  
And there's no one at all  
To break my fall_

I snapped.

Just like that.

They had all been dressed in white lab coats when they came to take her into the helicopter. With clinical, calculating moves, they had loaded her onto a stretcher, then proceeded to check her pulse, her heartbeat.

That was when I began to have doubts.

About Durix and her plans, her scientific minions, the madness glazed over her eyes as she spoke to me before departing for her Salt Lake laboratory.

I had the nagging feeling that the woman who had cared enough to tend to the wound of her kidnapper would never make it out Durix's hands alive.

I had always relied on my instincts. As far as I could remember, they had served as my unfailing guide in knowing and defeating danger.

Always.

It was no different with Sarah.

_Sarah..._

Her name tasted bittersweet, digging an even deeper hollow in me that had began to gape open the moment those white-coated rats took her from my arms.

This hollow, this seeming emptiness.

It was guilt.

I was no fool not to know it.

I found myself on the motorcycle, speeding towards Salt Lake City.

_Sarah..._

Her face, her look of innocent concern, flashed before my eyes like a burst of purifying flame. In that fleeting moment, I found my reason for fighting and living on.

I would not lose her.

_Like a moth to a flame  
Only I am to blame  
What can I do?  
I go straight to you  
I've been told  
You're to have, not to hold_

_Three days._

_He had been waiting for three days, religiously, blending into the trees during the day, into the shadows at night. He lived and breathed the hours in the hope of finding her still alive when he saw her again. Durix Laboratories was an imposing sight from outside, as lifeless and synthetic as its mistress._

_He never should have had accepted her offer in the first place._

_If only he had known how much it would cost his soul._

_If only..._

_It was too late for regrets now._

_It was nearly midnight on the third day of his vigil when a sterile-looking white van exited the laboratory grounds, its headlights conspicuously lowered. For a vehicle going out into a lonely city outskirt road, its speed was suspiciously high. There were rarely any other vehicles, or people for that matter, that passed by the lab._

_From his perch on the oak tree by the main gate, he felt a strangely familiar tug at his ki, the spirit-energy from which he derived his strength, will and actions._

_His eyes took in the van's large size; most of the vehicles that made trips to and from the laboratory were passenger-size automobiles, not ones made for carrying much cargo._

_This was different._

_Sarah._

_It took that one affirmation from the deepest recesses of his soul._

_He had barely drawn a deep breath when he realized he had already leapt after the van. It wasn't as high as it had looked from afar, and he made it onto the vehicle's roof without difficulty._

_The tug on his ki was stronger now. Much stronger._

_He pressed his ear through the steel casing, straining, concentrating for the one telltale sign that she was there._

_Even, whispery breathing assaulted his senses, making his eyes feel clouded. It still carried the sweet cadence that was uniquely hers._

_He remembered it so well. As she had fallen into arms and succumbed to slumber._

_His instincts were right. As they always have been. He smiled inwardly. At least, there was something he could still trust._

_Something within himself, but it was enough._

_All he had asked for..._

_She was so close._

_Like a moth to a flame  
Only I am to blame  
What can I do?  
I go straight to you  
I've been told  
You're to have, not to hold_

On the way out of Salt Lake, the van passed by a similar-looking vehicle that was driven by Jacky Bryant. With him were Akira Yuki and Pai Chan. They were still traveling together. I had expected them to get here sooner.

But no matter. I pressed down onto the van's roof, melding as deep as I could into the bends and lines of the shadows. They did not see me. They did not stop either, just drove straight in the opposite direction where the van that carried Sarah was heading.

The three of them were headed for the lab.

Cows to the slaughter.

The van traveled straight until morning. I got off before it passed the border into New York State at around sunrise. The direction was clear enough for me. Durix had a Koenkan-funded halfway house in Manhattan. They would not be staying for very long there, but they would be stopping by.

Durix probably needed to make her progress report to Liu Kowloon before crossing the Atlantic, heading for Europe where she had most of her tinkering toys stowed.

Over the years, I had learned that work did not begin and end by studying the subjects of the task involved, but the clients as well. They proved to be more interesting, for the most part.

I went back to Salt Lake and gathered what little I always brought with me on the job. My clothes, armaments and the black motorcycle. Everything I could call my own in this world.

I backtracked the route, tearing down the highways, towards New York City.

_Sarah._

I have nowhere else to go.

_You're to have, not to hold  
You're to have, not to hold  
You're to have, not to hold  
To break my heart_


End file.
